


Misappropriation of an Office Chair

by remuslives23



Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M, no office chairs were injured in the writing of this fic, old fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-29
Updated: 2014-12-29
Packaged: 2018-03-04 03:31:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2907716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/remuslives23/pseuds/remuslives23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack. Ianto. An office fetish. Join the dots.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Misappropriation of an Office Chair

Jack groaned as his hips bucked up off his office chair. Sweat-slick skin slid against the aged leather, and the scent of musk and salt and lust in the air nearly choked him as he sucked in a sharp breath. 'Ianto, fuck!'

A low, muffled chuckle provoked another, louder groan as vibrations rippled down Jack's shaft and wound around his heavy sac. His balls pulled up tight against his body; the pressure at the base of his spine intensifying. A thumb slid easily between his buttocks – already slippery with lube and sweat - and circled teasingly over his clenching hole.

Jack hooked a leg over the arm of his chair, spreading himself wide open for Ianto's ministrations. Ianto's tortured moan made him smirk and he glanced down, meeting Ianto's blazing hot gaze. The desire in the darkened blue depths took on a sly edge as those beautifully swollen lips slid slowly up Jack's cock – sucking firmly the entire way and making Jack's vision blur a little – then, with a flick of his tongue over the ridge of the blood-flushed glans, Ianto released him with a quiet pop.

'What...? Ianto, come on,' Jack whined, blinking hazily down at the self-satisfied smile of the man between his bare thighs. 'I'm close.'

He canted his hips to emphasise his point, the dripping tip of his cock nudging Ianto's chin. But Ianto was unmoved. His hand shifted lazily on Jack's cock as he dipped his head to mouth at the tightly-stretched skin of Jack's sac, his thumb still teasing Jack's cleft with feather-light touches to the sensitised flesh.

Jack swore under his breath, wrapping his own hand around Ianto's to try to speed up his measured strokes. Ianto made a disgruntled noise against Jack's left testicle and shoved Jack's hand away just as his thumb pushed inside him.

'Bastard,' Jack muttered, reaching out again, this time, to twist his fingers in Ianto's locks. Ianto drew a ball into his mouth, the heated velvet of his tongue curling around the ovoid testes and sucking lightly. Jack's fingers tightened in Ianto's hair, delighting in both the unusual dishevelment of the dark brown curls and the rather high-pitched squeak Ianto emitted. He made a hasty mental note to harass Ianto about it later then gasped as one of Ianto's long, elegant fingers joined his thumb inside Jack's arse.

The even-paced stripping of his cock was maddening, and Jack impatiently thrust upwards, the chair creaking ominously as he forced his cock into Ianto's fist before pushing back against his invading fingers. Ianto slid his lips away from Jack's balls, and nipped sharply at his soft inner thigh. 'You tart,' he laughed, screwing a third finger into Jack's arse and watching with a smirk as Jack rode the digits shamelessly. 'Look at you. So needy, so fucking desperate for my mouth, my fingers...'

'Ianto, please?' Jack begged brokenly, clinging to the arm of his chair with one hand, and the back of Ianto's neck with the other, his hips pumping furiously into dead air as he reached for the orgasm Ianto was holding just out of reach. 'Please?'

Ianto sucked a bruise into Jack's thigh then snapped his wrist hard, making Jack cry out. 'This what you want?' Ianto asked, his hand moving fast over Jack's thick, straining cock. His fingers crooked in Jack's arse, thrumming mercilessly over the bump of his prostate, and he lowered his head, his tongue lashing over the damp head of Jack's dick.

'Come on then, Captain,' Ianto hissed between greedy licks. 'Want to taste you. Come on.'

'Oh, Christ!' Jack yelled, arching out of the chair as his orgasm hit forcefully, pounding him with pulse after pulse of pure, unadulterated pleasure. His arse clamped down around Ianto's fingers, his cock twitching and throbbing against Ianto's palm as pearly streaks of come painted his tongue and chin.

Jack sank back into his chair, spent and boneless, his chest heaving as he fervently filled his lungs with oxygen. He felt Ianto rise to his feet, then the familiar wet slap of flesh on flesh made him open his heavy eyelids just in time to watch Ianto throw back his head and shoot his load over Jack's throat in three powerful fountaining spurts.

Ianto slumped against Jack's desk, the wooden legs screeching a little as they skidded along the concrete floor, breathing hard as his hand rubbed at his half-hard cock, gently coaxing out the last tiny aftershocks. Jack grinned at the sight of his flushed, sweaty face. He never loved Ianto more than he did in these moments. After climax, he was raw and pliant and open; so beautiful in these precious seconds before his guard slammed back into place.

Jack dragged his big toe along Ianto's calf, their ankles bumping together as their naked feet pressed against each other; the simple touch somehow seeming far more intimate than anything else they'd done that night. Ianto looked down at their feet, wriggling his toes affectionately against the side of Jack's foot before he pushed himself away from the desk. 'Shower,' he grunted, voice hoarse and eyes hooded as he wiped his sticky hand on his shirt and offered the other to Jack. 'Now.'

Jack huffed out a laugh and let Ianto haul him to his feet. 'Shower then bed,' he countered, raising an eyebrow when Ianto didn't offer his usual objections to sleeping over. 'Okay?'

'Yep,' Ianto said agreeably, as if this hadn't been a bone of contention between them for months, then his lips quirked up in the corners. 'My bed, though.'

Jack opened his mouth to remind Ianto of all the reasons he shouldn't leave the Hub at night then quickly shut it. Ianto had a queen-sized bed. A really soft queen-sized bed in a warm flat owned by a hedonistic Welshman with an oral fixation. When compared to the cold, too-firm, lonely cot that awaited him...

'Deal,' he said decisively, startling Ianto who'd obviously expected him to argue.

'Right,' Ianto said, trying but not succeeding in hiding how pleased he was, and Jack immediately promised himself that he was going to put that look on Ianto's face more often.

And speaking of making Ianto do things more often...

'So, what do I have to do to make you squeak again like you did earlier?'

Ianto wiped his chin on his shoulder and frowned. 'I do not squeak,' he said, affronted.

Jack grinned and used their joined hands to pull Ianto into an embrace. 'You do so,' he murmured against Ianto's lips, still tacky with Jack's come. 'And I'm going to spend the night – in your nice, big bed – making you do it over and over and over again.'

Ianto tangled a hand in Jack's hair and tugged his head back, lowering his head to swipe his tongue over the cooling come on Jack's throat and biting at the straining tendon. 'Promises, promises,' he whispered before claiming Jack's mouth in a deep, slow kiss.

They didn't make it to Ianto's flat.

But Jack did make Ianto squeak again.

And again.

And again.

fin.


End file.
